Last weekend the husband complained that the job jar was overflowing with jobs that “only Jeff could do.” Well, that’ll teach him. Because in order to help him out, I took it upon myself to do a Jeff job: fix the kitchen drawer that wouldn’t close and had been hanging open in the middle of the kitchen for a week.
Yes, some of the projects around here are projects best left for the mathematically inclined, logic-minded engineer in the house: my husband. Which is why, I tell myself, I don’t undertake them. I mean, it really is best if he’s the one to go through the last twenty years of IRA contributions to make sure we filed the correct form with the IRS so when we… zzzzzzzzzz. Sorry, drifted off there. See why he’d be better for the task? But the kitchen drawer, that was something I felt I could tackle. I knew going in, the way my right brain would tackle it would not be the way his would. And if I screwed it up too royally, he’d be even more pissed than he is at an overflowing job jar, when I told him the only solution now is to get all new kitchen cabinets.
First I had to remove the drawer, which was jammed pretty good. Caution Engineers: This next part will make you squeamish. Lying on the floor underneath, I tried rocking it, pounding on it with a rubber mallet, prying it with a flat head screwdriver and adding some helpful swear words to provide malleability to the rail. Thirty minutes later I was able to get it free, but then found myself lying on the floor with a heavy wooden drawer six inches from my nose. Fortunately, my son showed up in the nick of time. “A little help here!” and he grabbed the drawer while I crawled out from under it. An engineer probably would have thought it was a good idea to have a spotter standing by or something. Pffft.
“The rail needs to be shimmed,” I remembered my husband saying about the project earlier and I did see a pile of shims among the dust and the “40th Birthday Celebration” napkins that had accumulated on the floor underneath the drawers. The wooden shim approach, the engineer’s approach, which had already been applied several times, was not working. This calls for some right-brain thinking, I thought. Maybe if I just bent the rail? I tried wedging the handle of the screwdriver between it and the wall. Come to think of it, the handle would shim it perfectly! But how to explain the loss of his favorite Stanley screwdriver? Hmmm, wait. He’ll never miss the travel size bottle of hand sanitizer.
The drawer closes now. It even opens, too! And it should continue to work until the next time it breaks. There’s one less project in the overflowing job jar this weekend. One less chore around here that “only Jeff can do.” But if he needs to travel anywhere where he may need some hand sanitizer, I’ll recommend the right brained solution of using some soap and water.
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